The forest grew quiet as Selene walked, her steps light over the damp earth. Behind her, the little black wolf padded close, never straying too far. His paws made no sound, but his presence pressed, warming her cold heart.
Selene did not tell him to follow, yet he did. Every time she glanced to the side, he was there, his dark fur brushing against her.
She stopped once, kneeling on the moss. Her hand reached down almost on its own, sinking into his soft fur. The wolf leaned into her touch, his body warm, pressing close to her. Selene's lips curved faintly, though her eyes stayed tired, filled with pain as once again the past resurfaced in front of her eyes.
Even though she had punished one of the men who was responsible for her mother's death, she felt no joy—only endless sorrow and emptiness in her heart.
